Nostalgia
by CanaanAlshea
Summary: Yoko Finds Himself A Familiar Trinket


Title: Nostalgia  
Author: Yoko-cw  
Summary: Yoko Finds Himself A Very Strange Trinket

***Kuronue POV***  
"Kurama! Kura-ouch, damn it!-get back here! Are you crazy?!"

He laughed in response, leaping from branches and letting the wind rush through his hair. I was keeping up, dodging arrows and rocks flung from slingshots. A rather large stone struck me and I cursed, throwing it huffily back at our hunters.

"You know," I said, catching up, glaring, "If we get caught this time, it's all on you." He just grinned, ducking to avoid a knife whizzing by, and held up the leather bag of our loot. "I know," Kurama said, "But the escape is half the fun, don't you agree?" "No, I do not!" He ducked down into a ditch and I followed suit. We held our breath as the demons leaped over us, ran around us loudly and full of anger. They wanted their treasure, and they wanted blood.

As it finally went still again, I let out the breath I'd been holding. Next to me, my fox laughed hysterically, falling to the ground and pulling an arrow out of his arm. "Woah!" I cried out, "Let me help you-!" He abruptly stopped laughing, but his eyes sparkled as he poked me with the bloody arrow, "Too late!" He stabbed the thing into the ground and stood, holding out a hand to me, "Well, come along." I sighed, letting him hoist me up, continuing to mutter about crazy foxes. He just laughed and agreed with me at every turn.

When we were finally back at the den, which took quite a while since my mate had decided to add more tunnels to the system, we laid on a large pile of fur that served as our bed. I counted gold pieces and he held up what looked like a dreamcatcher, swinging it hypnotically back and forth by the leather strap, following it with sparkling gold eyes. "You know," I said with a sigh, "One of these days, you're going to trip that alarm and we won't be so lucky." My fox looked at me, wide eyed, "Luck?" he gaped, "What that was, darling, was pure *skill*. Luck had nothing to do with it!" We stared at each other for a moment before he plopped back onto the bed and sang to himself quietly, no longer swinging his trinket but, seeming hypnotized by it.

"Ne, fox," I abandoned my task and lay next to him on my stomach, puffing my breath against furry ears, "What's with that thing anyway?" Upon closer inspection, I saw it was indeed a dreamcatcher, but where one would normally put beads, there were stones, glinting in the candlelight. "Dunno," he whispered, "But it's pretty, don't you think?" I snorted, "Whatever you say. I'll stick with gold, thanks."

The fire crackled in the silence. I laid my head on his shoulder, letting his white hair fall through my fingers. I watched him watching the dreamcatcher, his face taking on a sad expression. He hummed quietly, something I had heard him sing before, but never knew the name of. "I feel like...I've seen this before," my fox whispered, "A very long time ago...maybe that's why I wanted it so badly..." I covered his hand with mine, our voices growing quieter, "We could hang it up, if you want." He just nodded, continuing to sing that strange tune. I furrowed my brow, suddenly noticing that I had not seen him grab the dreamcatcher. He had only pulled it off his neck when we got home. Slowly, I pulled it off his fingers, hanging it above our bed, wishing he would say something.

"It's so beautiful here, she says," he sang quietly, "This moment now, this moment now..."

His eyes, golden and distant, were beautiful and haunting.

"My...mother," he whispered, "She hung one of these above the bed where my sisters and I would sleep." He never spoke of his family. I held his face in my hand, my calloused thumb stroking his cheek, the small scar near the corner of his eye. "What did they look like, your family?" Pale lips twitched upwards, "Like me. We all look the same...I'm thinner though, taller. Mama was tall." He was hypnotized by memories. How long had it been since he'd allowed himself to remember them?

How long had it been since they'd all died in the fire?

He was afraid of fire. He'd told me that early on in our relationship, every time he put the campfire out before we went to sleep, no matter how cold it was. It made sense, and I couldn't be mad at him no matter how often we'd held each other shivering violently.

He turned his face to me then, smiling softly and bringing my pendant to his lips, "This was your fathers, no? A family heirloom of your own?" I propped my head on my hand, nodding quietly, "Unlike you, I don't look like him," I winked, "He always joked that I was adopted." He pushed up, pressing his mouth softly onto mine in a long kiss. Long black lashes framed golden eyes and I couldn't look away from him. We laid on our backs, fingers laced and staring up at the dreamcatcher, dangling feathers swaying gently.

"Kuro," he murmured, half asleep, "Let's stay here tomorrow. Lie low, read some books..." I nodded, kissing the back of his hand, traced the stark blue veins with my lips. "Sure, fox."

That night, he dreamed. And for the first time, I saw him cry, as he whispered one word: "Mama."

I could do nothing but hold him.


End file.
